


Options

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto photographs the potential suitors.





	Options

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The Citadel is _gorgeous_ , and Prompto’s quite sure that very little of that has to do with the decorations—he thinks if he’d been invited on just a normal Tuesday, he’d still be completely in awe. His first few pictures are just of the dazzling architecture, things that’ll probably seem mundane and unimportant to his clients, but that’ll inspire him for months afterwards. Then he finally moves on to the elaborate lighting, floral arrangements, banners, and even the banquet tables—all the special touches laid out just for tonight. Prompto can’t imagine how much it all cost. At first, he was beyond flattered when the tall, suave man with ash-brown hair and glasses hired him to photographically document the night, citing the exquisite work on his website, but now he’s starting to think their massive budget was blown on everything else and a freelance college student was all they could afford in the aftermath. 

Prompto tries to earn his—still sizeable—paycheck. He snaps photographs of everything, always mindful of the angles and lighting, and more than one of the guests stop to dramatically pose for him. Some look as royal and rich as they must be, while others just look pompous and ridiculous for the extra effort. Prompto acts reverential to all of them. He knows they’re all several rungs above him. He knows he’s got to be the most out of place person in the entire Citadel at the moment, and that includes the Niflheim delegation and the servers.

The only other person as alone in a category as him is the one at the opposite end of the spectrum: the man they’re all here to see. There’ve been rumours all over Insomnia, dotting every magazine, though the Crown hasn’t made any official statement to confirm it. This has only been titled a _ball_ , and nothing more, but the speculation is that it’s for finding _suitors_ , and that’s why everyone who’s anyone has been invited. Prompto’s even been asked to catalogue at least one headshot of every person in attendance between the ages of eighteen and forty, which he’s to keep confidential. Personally, Prompto thinks forty’s too old for their twenty-year-old prince, but then, maybe it’s all totally innocent and there’s some other reason he’s covertly gathering guest-specific pictures.

The only person he hasn’t tried to take a picture of is that very prince, because Prompto’s doing his best to be _professional_ , and that’s not going to work with red cheeks and a stammering tongue. He knows what that prince does to him. They went to the same school. Both elementary and secondary. And Prompto _tried_ to approach him on more than one occasion, only to be swept away in nerves and slink back into the shadows.

But that was back when Prince Noctis was a lonely-looking kid, not a hot-as-Ifirit’s-fire future king strutting about the ballroom in a fitted suit. It’d be ten times harder now. And ten times more inappropriate. Prompto’s as common as it gets, and Noctis is... _Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum._

It takes a good chunk of the night before Prompto’s confident he’s gotten a picture of everyone ‘eligible,’ still without the star attraction. He rewards himself by wandering over to the buffet. Everything looks ridiculously fancy, delicious, and more calories than Prompto’s entire daily allotment. By now, most of the guests have had their fill, and there aren’t many still lingering around it, though Prompto spots the man who first hired him near the end, talking to a buff guy approximately three times Prompto’s size. Abandoning his camera to the strap over his shoulder, Prompto tries an elaborate cheese and cracker bundle first.

It’s a taste explosion. He loves it and goes for a second.

“Hey.”

Cracker half shoved into his mouth, Prompto nearly jumps out of his skin. He crams in the rest and hurriedly swallows it down as he swerves to look at the person that spoke—then blushes right to his ears. Noctis looks even hotter in person. Which shouldn’t be possible. And he’s talking to _Prompto._

Hands in his pockets and expression cool as could be, Noctis asks, “So, what oh-so-noble bloodline are you representing tonight?” 

Prompto just blinks. He’s bizarrely aware that his brain’s shut down, but his mouth opens anyway, and he blurts out, “I’m adopted.”

Which is an absolutely ridiculous thing to say to a stranger. He immediately wants to take it back. Noctis’ eyes go a little wide, and he quietly says, “I’m sorry.” Then there’s an awkward pause where they just stare at one another, Noctis waiting for who knows what and Prompto waiting for the floor to open up and swallow him. “Um... who’re you representing, though?”

Absolutely nobody. Prompto meekly lifts his camera, still completely red, and mumbles, “I’m the photographer.”

“Oh.”

Prompto waits for Noctis to walk away. At this point, it’d just be so much easier. He always wanted to talk to Noctis, yes, _but not like this._

Noctis doesn’t walk away. Noctis asks, “Do you wanna dance?”

Prompto’s brain is collapsing. He’ll never know how he manages to answer, “Fuck yes.” And then it’s even worse because _he just swore at the prince._

But Noctis just bursts into cheerful laughter, grabs him by the wristband, and tugs him towards the dance-floor. 

Even though he’s got nothing more to offer than a King’s Knight friend code, Prompto wonders dazedly if he dares slip his own picture into the roster.


End file.
